The Secret Society part 1

Hi, I'm Veronica, and it's been three months since I graduated from journalism school. I had high hopes of securing a full-time job by now, but reality hit me hard. Although I didn't mind capturing scenic landscapes and animals through my lens, I craved something more.

Throughout college, I daydreamed about becoming a photojournalist, covering global hotspots and making a difference. However, the actuality I faced was far from those dreams.

Currently, I spend hours glued to my computer screen, immersing myself in captivating photographs from various conflicts around the world. Through the lenses of those courageous photographers, I see the world and envision myself, a petite redhead standing at 5 feet 5 inches with long red hair tied back in a ponytail, racing around to capture that one photo capable of altering the course of the war I'm covering.

But instead of changing the outcome of a war, my current assignment involves influencing the fate of the most powerful woman in my state, Karla Stewart.

On June 24, I met with a magazine that introduced me to Karla Stewart.

"Do you know her?" they asked.

"I only know her by name. We've never met," I replied.

"Our goal is for you to become her official photographer and then infiltrate her company and organisation. We want to uncover the secrets of that enigmatic society."

"If you succeed and provide us with compelling material for a front-page story, I'm willing to offer you a permanent job at our magazine."

I looked at him, contemplating the opportunity. "That sounds great. But what do you think this secret society is all about?"

"I'd rather not speculate. We want you to go in with fresh eyes, making it harder for them to detect your presence as an intruder."

"That makes sense. But why me? You never told me why your esteemed magazine chose me."

"To be honest, Karla has three preferences:
1-She adores young women.
2-She has a thing for cute, short, redheads.
3-She loves being photographed, especially in her new clothes and at secret society events."

"So, I fit her taste and requirements."

"Yes, Veronica, you certainly do."

"Great. When do I start?"

We shook hands, the old-fashioned way, something people rarely do nowadays.

"Just one last thing. Don't underestimate Karla and her clients. They're extremely wealthy, and 95% of them are women who want to indulge in their darkest fantasies, some legal and some very illegal."

"Don't worry, I won't become one of their playthings."

"We've arranged a meeting for you on Monday. It's a fortunate timing since her photographer had a minor accident and won't be able to fulfill her duties. The poor lady broke her leg in a skydiving mishap."

I must admit, when I saw Karla in person for the first time, I was left speechless.

No photograph could do her justice. The extra 10 to 15 pounds she had gained since her modelling years only enhanced her physical perfection. She was undeniably attractive.

Our meeting took place at her flagship store on Rodeo Drive. As I entered, she was engrossed in conversation with another woman, giving me a chance to observe her closely. Standing tall at around 5'10", she possessed long blonde hair that cascaded freely, a captivating smile, and a cute petite nose.

She was tall and slender, with firm and shapely breasts, possibly augmented. Her classy attire displayed just the right amount of cleavage. What had earned her millions over the years were her long, well-toned legs that remained in perfect shape.

I apologize for the detailed physical description. Some men who read my stories claim that no woman would describe another woman in such a way. I don't see women as mere objects; I admire them, and sometimes I'm physically attracted to them. As a photographer, it's crucial for me to understand the strengths and weaknesses of my subjects.

Karla Stewart had no apparent weaknesses. I needed to dig deeper.

She introduced herself, but it took me a moment or two to register her words. I was a bit starstruck. For one of the very few times in my life, I wished I had dressed better for this encounter. I was wearing a skirt, blouse, and modest 2-inch heels, nothing revealing that would showcase my small, perky breasts.

I was no model, just a photographer.

"It's too late to change anything now," I thought to myself as I strolled through the exquisite store with Karla. She didn't waste time on unnecessary words, but her smile compensated for it.

One could tell she was a busy woman, always ready to move on to the next thing, yet her smile conveyed a sense of importance she attributed to our meeting. I felt it.

Two women entered the store and went straight to Karla. She excused herself and engaged in a conversation with them. I discreetly distanced myself but kept a watchful eye on the trio. Although Karla didn't require my assistance, I was intensely curious about the argument unfolding between her and the duo.

A few minutes later, she closed the store, and together we walked towards the parking lot. It was then that I received my first work-related request.

"I have a friend coming to the store tomorrow after hours, and I would like some casual photos. Are you up for it?"

"Yes, Karla, it would be my pleasure. What time should I be here?"

"How about 10 p.m.? It will be just the three of us."

"I'll be here."

Her private driver arrived to pick her up, and she bid me goodnight. I caught a quick glimpse of the driver, a man in his mid-twenties. I chuckled at the thought of Karla robbing the cradle with this young man.

Later that evening, as I reflected on the upcoming assignment, I realized I needed to pay close attention to Karla's actions and words around the office. Was the driver her boyfriend, a casual fling, or merely a coworker? Was she meeting someone from that secret society?

Part 2 to come.

K